Falling From Grace
by ClaireBamboozle
Summary: Outtake from Wicked Games. This is the story of how Eadweard the angel was cast out of Heaven. Could be read in isolation, but would make more sense if the main story has been read first.


**Disclaimer- I don't own Twilight or the original characters, I just love the thought of Angelward. **

**A/N - Special thanks to those wonderful readers who reviewed Wicked Games and asked for the story of Eadweard being cast out of Heaven. Without your enthusiasm for my story this outtake wouldn't exist. **

**With thanks to Rita01TX who gets sent my drivel and manages to make it much prettier.**

"Eadweard, I have the papers for signing." Caius pushes the collection of papers in my direction and I begin to scan the list of names, cross checking against the master copy. There are more than usual today, an unexpected earthquake in South America claiming the lives of a hundred additional devout and worthy souls.

"My wing are aching," he mumbles, I glance up to see him already unfurling his plumage and shrugging his shoulders as the feathers spread wide. We have worked together for a while, maybe eighty years. He is always the same, finding comfort in grumbling. If not his wings, then it would be a stone in his sandal or a complaint about his workload.

Caius is taller than I and my measurement is almost seven feet. He has dark hair falling to his shoulders, his skin tone is darker than mine, Mediterranean almost and luminous, with brown eyes that watch me follow the movement as he draws his wings closed and shuffles them in place against his back.

"You make me want to stretch mine out," I chuckle.

"Well, do it then. You know it feels good."

"I will, but not now. There is work to be done." He huffs and holds a hand out for me to return the papers.

"Wait. Who is this one? He is not on the list." I turn the paper around and point to the name. "Ramone Pedro. . .he's not here."

Caius frowns, peering at the sheet and glances at the full copy I have before me. "Ahh, my error. It should read Pedro Ramone. I'm sorry, I must have copied it down wrongly."

I check the master copy and promptly find Mr Ramone's name. I take a deep breath and internally congratulate myself on spotting the mistake. It is why I am the supervisor and not Caius. He lets his mind wander from the job too often.

"There are many today and they are becoming restless." They are not the only ones judging from Caius's tone. He folds his arms across his chest a scowl marring his smooth features.

"Have a little patience Caius, it will be done when it's done." Nevertheless, I do speed up on the check, my eyes flying between the two pages, signing off each name as I go.

"Here, everyone is accounted for." I roll up the master list, securing it with a red ribbon before tucking it under my arm and turning to leave.

"Oh, you missed signing one." He sounds triumphant at catching me out. It's the happiest I have heard him all day. "Not like you, Eadweard. You're usually so thorough."

Flustered, I quickly sign my name and bid him good day.

Rushing was my undoing. I know now it was my fault. I signed off his admittance. A thousand years of loyal servitude ruined in a moment's haste. The waves of sickly guilt roll over me like breakers on the seashore, each one pushing me farther into my own world of self flagellation.

I didn't realize something was wrong until it was too late. I should have cross-checked before blindly signing and I certainly should have questioned the one blond head among the sea of darker hair.

James Hunter was a very unusual man. He wasn't a sinner. His feet didn't burn as he passed through the gates into Heaven. In fact, if it wasn't for the deal he made on his deathbed, his name would most likely have been included on my list.

Once he made it inside the gates, he was free to cause mayhem. Exploiting those around him, manipulating arguments, turning neighbor against neighbor, the violence came next. Eventually,

he was summoned to account for his actions. His insubordination so great, the Lord himself had demanded to see him.

This, of course, was all part of the plan.

James had lived a quiet life and was just twenty-two when he was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. He felt it was unjust. After all, he'd hardly been given the chance to live before it was being cruelly snatched away from him. He railed against God, believing He had deserted him in his hour of need and, in his final days he offered a promise to the Devil to give up his soul if he could guarantee a better existence in the next world.

It was just the opportunity The Devil had been waiting for. No one else from his realm would dare to set foot on such hallowed ground as this. Their past sins would cause them to combust instantly. James, on the other hand, was free to pass through the gates and do the Devil's dirty work for him.

Satan is cunning and he never turns down the chance to swell his numbers. Finding a soul being offered willingly is a rare thing indeed. He needed James to fulfill his nefarious scheme and made him promises of palaces and finery, women and slaves, anything to secure this most precious commodity, an unblemished soul.

James's robes concealed a dagger made of burnished silver, encrusted with jewels and its blade coated in the Devils own blood. The intent was simple. Get close enough to stab the Lord and stand back while the blood worked its magic. . .mixing and mutating to drive the goodness away until only evil remained. A coup for the devil, who would then possess the throne of God.

It was only James' stupidity in showing his hand too soon that the plot failed, brandishing the weapon and vocalizing his threats. It gave away the element of surprise and he was quickly overpowered. The pact was revealed and James paid the ultimate price when a nick from the dagger blackened his soul and he burned where he stood, vaporized into nothing. In the end, his soul belonged to no one.

I knew then how Caius had tricked me, adding James's name to the list after my initial sign-off was completed. I don't know why he agreed to do it or what he stood to gain. Allowing himself to be bribed by a demon but, It's no excuse. I was responsible. I should never have blindly signed him through.

Our involvement was quickly discovered and, as a result, we've both been called to account for ourselves.

We sit together on a bench in the long corridor outside the main hall. To anyone who passes, we must make the strangest sight; back-to-back, unspeaking, like a pair of marble bookends. Caius will not acknowledge me and kept his eyes downcast when he passed by to take the perch behind me.

"Caius." Aro opens the heavy wooden door and calls for my colleague. Caius sighs then stands. I don't look to see the expression on his face. I can imagine how he must be feeling. . .contrite, ashamed, afraid.

The door closes behind him with a soft click and I try not to pick apart the muffled voices I can barely make out from the other side.

This case is so serious, a special meeting of the council has been convened. Four of the Archangels will sit in judgement, their decision in the matter final. Apart from Aro, I have no idea who else will be in there. I think perhaps I hear Marcus speak and kid myself he will be understanding. I have known him a long time. We worked together guiding humans over a century ago. He must know I would never knowingly be disloyal.

I toy with the edge of my wing, pulling a feather free before shredding away the barbs with my fingers until only the vane and quill remains. A nervous habit of mine. I brush the ruined remains aside and immediately reach for a second one.

It has gone quiet in the room behind me. Any explanations have now been given and a verdict is clearly being deliberated. My anxiety levels rise as I suddenly have a desperate need to know what is happening beyond the wooden door. I strain to hear any indication of the outcome.

Minutes pass and the silence remains. I actually jump when the shrill scream pierces the air.

"Caius." I whisper his name. The scream has risen in pitch, reflecting his agony. I squeeze my eyes shut and my mind taunts me with images of tortuous human deaths I have seen throughout my existence. During the many centuries I walked the earth as a guardian angel, I bore witness to some of man's cruellest ingenuity; burning at the stake, death by poison, beheading, hanging. So many ways to end a life. What I hear beyond the door sounds brutal.

There is a babble of chatter from beyond the wall and the door opens. Caius doesn't exit. Instead it is Aro.

"Eadweard. We are ready for you."

Slowly I stand, shaking my wings to ease the tension between my shoulder blades. All this time sitting, I hadn't realized how much I had curved in on myself. I roll my neck and take a deep breath before stepping through the doorway.

Caius is nowhere to be seen, just a blackened scorch mark upon the floor where I assume he stood as his punishment was doled out.

Out of respect, I make sure not to stand on the same spot.

The walls in here are high and painted pristine white. The sound of Aro's footsteps echoing in this cavernous place as he moves back to his seat. I raise my head to face my jury.

They are seated in a row behind a long wooden table. Paul sits on the left, his shoulder length blond hair shining like spun silk in the light form the many candles burning here. His face is impassive. I have no idea what he will make of my involvement in this crime. Next is Aro, his luminous face creased into a deep frown. He seems to have made his mind up already. Alongside him sits Marcus and I have a moment of relief as his lips twitch into a half smile, recognizing our past connection. Finally seated at the end is Michael, his blonde hair much shorter than Paul's. With clear blue eyes, he watches me like a hawk.

"Eadweard, do you know why you are here?" Marcus speaks for the group, his melodious voice hypnotic and low, even to me. I can only imagine what effect he would have on a human ear.

"Yes. . .I allowed a man through the gates who was not on the list." He nods, appreciating my honesty.

"Why did you let him through?" he tilts his head to one side, while his brown eyes observe my body language.

"I had signed off the list. But Caius handed it back. . ." I feel I am being disloyal somehow. I know I speak the truth, but I fear my superiors may think I am lying to save my skin. With Caius gone, there is no one to argue with my version of events.

"Why was that?" Michael asks. I turn to face him.

"He said I missed a signature. I had already checked the list once, so I assumed it was my error and stupidly signed without double-checking."

"Are you saying Caius added the name after the list had been signed off?" Aro questions. I look into his green eyes as panic swells in my chest. What has Caius told them? Could he have tried to blame me in an attempt to wheedle off the hook? I don't sound convincing as I answer.

"I believe so."

"Eadweard! You have been loyal for so long," Marcus sighs. "I am surprised you allowed someone to trick you so easily."

I hang my head in shame.

"I'm sorry, I should have checked the master list. It was a stupid mistake."

"And one which almost saw the kingdom fall," Paul spits.

"I am truly remorseful. I take full responsibility for my stupidity." I focus on the ash mark on the floor beside me and wonder will I suffer the same fate?

"This is a serious matter. Your slip was key to the plan," Michael emphasizes. I don't look up and he bellows. "Look at us, not the floor!"

As instructed, I snap my head up and see anger on three of the faces. Marcus is the odd one out, wearing a pained expression as he is torn between loyalty to his friend and agreeing with his colleagues.

"Caius has confessed his involvement, but we want to know how much you knew," Paul demands.

"I knew nothing of their plot. I was duped."

"I have known you a long time." Marcus, his honeyed tones lulling and calming the anxiety which threatens to choke me. "Did you truly have no idea?"

I drop to my knees before them, my arms splayed out before me.

"I swear on all that is holy, I did not know of the plan. I would never have knowingly allowed such a thing."

They whisper among themselves. I try to close off my ears to their deliberating. There is nothing more I can say. They most likely made their minds up before I stepped in the room and I fully expect to be burned as Caius was.

There is a disagreement over my punishment. I hear Marcus make the case for my past service, centuries of loyalty and devotion. Michael is pushing for my execution. My fate hangs in the balance. I close my eyes and pray for forgiveness, chanting the words over and over gives me a mantra to focus on while they arrive at a decision.

"Eadweard," Marcus calls and I raise my head. He walks around to me and offers his hand. I take it and stand on shaky legs. "After some deliberation, we are still undecided on your involvement in this case but, taking into account your substantial years of service, it has been agreed you will not be executed."

The relief washes over me instantly and my knees buckle. Marcus supports me until I am able to stand unaided.

"However, this was a serious breach of your responsibilities and that cannot be ignored."

I look at him with confused eyes.

"You are to be exiled from this place, unable to return until such time as the council see fit."

"Exiled?" I repeat the word, not truly understanding what it means. He nods, his face set like stone.

"You will be escorted through the gates and you must not return or attempt to speak with anyone here, or your punishment will be reviewed. Do you understand?"

"Yes. . .thank you," I speak but I am numb. My whole existence has been spent in service and now I have nothing to show for it.

Marcus opens the door and sweeps his arm in an arc to indicate I should go with him. Silently, I obey, stumbling back into the corridor. He takes the lead, moving us towards the gate. We pass my old post and I see my position has already been filled. My replacement doesn't let his eyes meet mine as we pass.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," Marcus whispers as we stand before the huge white gate. "I tried my best for you."

"At least I got to walk away," I answer weakly, remembering the price Caius paid.

"Caius admitted his involvement. We had no choice." His jaw hardens but he pats me on the shoulder. "I will do what I can to get your case reviewed in time."

I nod to thank him for his help and he locks the gate behind me.

Time to an angel has no set measure. We don't cross days off a calender or celebrate regular anniversaries, it simply passes and we don't notice. But here, with nothing to occupy me time seems to taunt me. I don't know for certain how long I have been an outcast. I would guess at decades rather than years. Alone and forgotten, I am fossilizing, turning into the graveyard icon I physically resemble. When I first found myself here, I picked at my feathers for days, unused to the stretching silence. My wings still bear witness to my self abuse, their edges tattered. I wonder could they still kick up dust if I needed to fly?

For a long time, I stayed close by the gate in the hope they would see me and might allow me to return. But I am invisible to their sight.

Eventually, I moved away, taking the gate and my past existence from my sight and resigned myself to my fate.

My eyes sought out other things to distract me. I began to look across the flames at the burnt soil on the other side. From time to time, some unfortunate or other would notice me, spitting and cursing or baring their flesh to tempt me. I ignore it all. They are repulsive creatures, conniving and damned. I see beyond their outer shell. I can see their souls. Twisted and darkened by wicked thoughts and cruelty, they hold no interest for me, until she came along.

I noticed her immediately and not just because of her shaven head. She was quiet, introverted and hard for me to read. Clearly, she was there because she was a sinner, but somehow she didn't look as if she belonged. She caught my attention and held it. Shamefully, I became a voyeur, stealing glances in her direction whenever I could.

I saw the reaction when she was summoned by her master. The eye rolls and jaw clenching, she does as she was asked, but she doesn't seem to revel in it. I try not to think what happens in the time when she is gone. It makes my blood boil to think he might be hurting her. I don't think she enjoys it, whatever he does. I notice how she limps sometimes when he is finished with her.

She seems to like that spot, existing on the outskirts, the farthest away she can be. Occasionally, she looks in my direction and I turn away, my eyes focusing anywhere but on her face. If our eyes were to meet, I might have to speak and, after so long holding my tongue, I don't think I would know what to say.

Everything changed the day he went too far.

She had been missing for hours before she came into view, naked and ashamed, her garment balled in her hands. Even from this far, I could see she was stiff and sore. As she came closer, I could see more clearly the wounds and bite marks that littered her flesh, her pale skin smeared with blood and dirt. She doesn't look at me, her eyes fixed on the ground. I wasn't sure, but I think she was crying. My heart ached to see her so broken and humiliated. She was suffering and I couldn't stand by and let it happen. Every fiber in my being screamed at me to reach out and comfort her.

I don't stop to think, all reason had left as my mind is overrun with the need to be on the same side of the flames. I am by no means certain I can make the leap, but I think I could stand on their soil if I did. I know Lucifer himself was an angel once.

Before I let rational thought cloud my judgement, I balance at the edge of the precipice, my eyes filled with the pitiful vision of her. My wings spread wide and I take a few steps back, enough to give me the propulsion I need. I grit my teeth in readiness but she cries out and stops me.

Hearing her voice is enough to bring me to my senses and I draw my wings back in place.

"Does this make you happy? What he does to you." I can't believe she would stop me, but I do start to wonder what I would have done had I actually managed to make it across. I couldn't carry her back here, she would be incinerated and I don't suppose I would be safe over there. My huge white wings would make me an easy target.

Her voice is the sweetest sound I've heard in decades and, since she is looking at me I take the chance to study her a little closer, too. I already knew she was beautiful as the looks I sneaked in her direction had revealed smooth skin, full lips and expressive eyes, but her body is exposed to me now, her breasts, belly and hips, smooth curves and gentle swell. I allow my eyes to sweep across her form. I've seen female bodies before, centuries on earth having exposed me to humans, their sculpture and paintings, but none bewitched me the way her flesh does. Sensation floods my body and I have the urge to reach out and touch her, to feel her warmth and softness beneath my hands. I want to learn all about her, to encircle and protect, to hold and possess.

The feelings are alien and unwanted. So much time alone is playing tricks with me. Ashamed of my lecherous desires, I lower my gaze and ask her to cover herself, thereby removing the source of my temptation.

It's only when she is dressed that I dare raise my eyes we start to talk, the gap between us no barrier as our conversation flows easily. I learn her name and I give her mine. It is only a small thing, but the gifts of honesty and friendship are all we have to offer each other.

I ask her why she stopped me and her courage amazes me. She had been offered freedom to lure and trap me, yet felt my safety was more important. My admiration for her grows. In that place of degradation and abuse she has somehow managed to retain her humanity.

Through simple words, we form a connection. For the first time since being exiled, I laugh and find I enjoy spending time with her. These years alone have been long and torturous, but if I can continue to speak with her, I think I could stay here forever.

Innocently, she mentions love and it hits me like a thunderbolt. This is what it is, these strange and confused emotions rushing through my system. I don't know for certain, only having read about it or watched it happen to humans around me, I've never felt it for myself. Needing to know for certain I ask for her definition and, incredibly, it fits with how I feel.

I'm not surprised to see the shock on her face when I tell her, but I am relieved she wasn't instantly repulsed . After all, to her eyes, I must seem like an alien, tall and glowing with feathers sprouting from my shoulders, hardly someone she would ever want for herself.

I try to explore it further, keen to learn what she thinks of me, but she is called away. My jaw tightens and I beg her to stay, fully aware she dare not refuse him. She leaves and I pray he doesn't hurt her or, worse, refuse to let her return. I don't know what I would do if I lost her now. When we spoke, I could feel myself coming to life again. Emotions began to course through my veins and awaken my spirit. If I knew I had to be alone again, I think I might just fling myself into the flames and be done with this purgatory.

"Eadweard!" I turn in time to see Marcus approaching me and I frown. Am I imagining things now?

"What are you doing here?" It probably sounded much ruder than I intended, but the sight of him striding across no man's land toward me is so unexpected.

"I bring good news! The council have finally agreed to hear your appeal." He smiles broadly, but I can't seem to command the muscles in my face to respond appropriately. "You are to come back with me. I think they are preparing to readmit you."

"Oh." It's all I can manage.

"It's a shock, I know," he laughs and my heart sinks.

Had he come to me yesterday, or even this morning, I would have been delighted. Most likely, I would have punched the air or danced for joy but, now I've spoken to Isabella and recognized my feelings for what they are, I can't go. I don't want her to return, bruised and ashamed, only to find me gone with no explanation.

"I can't go back." Marcus tilts his head and frowns in confusion.

"Of course you can, brother. I've just told you, they are reconsidering. They wouldn't offer if your readmission wasn't a likely outcome."

"No, you don't understand. I can't leave her."

He looks around the barren wasteland and, finding us alone, a look flickers across his features. He thinks I am mad, all these years alone having turned my brain.

"Her, who?"

"Isabella." I enjoy the sound of her name as it flows over my lips and spreads a warmth throughout my chest.

"I don't understand. There's no one here but us." I laugh at his reactions, finding them inexplicably funny. It must sound manic since his frown deepens. I gather my wits.

"She had to leave." I look back to where she stood and he gapes at me.

"She's in Hell! A sinner?"

"She's different."

"No, they're all the same. She will take advantage. Tempt and lure you away."

I smirk, remembering how she refused the devils bribe to keep me safe. I weigh up my choices. I can return to Heaven, a disgraced angel, to plead on my knees for a second chance at an existence of calm and quiet servitude, one which will result in me constantly being watched like a junior, or I can be here when she returns, the one who ignites my emotions and sees me as an individual. I may never get to hold or comfort her as I would like but, through her companionship she has unwittingly set me free.

"Marcus, thank you for your effort, but I think I'd prefer to stay here for the time being."

He looks at me aghast, bamboozled by my refusal to crawl back and beg. I feel lightened by the decision, the weight finally lifted from my shoulders.

"Have you gone completely mad? Have the fumes from the fire softened your brain? You are not thinking right."

I laugh again, enjoying the way I feel it tightening my stomach.

"Maybe I have, but my mind is made up."

"Well, I will leave you be, but I don't think the council will be pleased about it."

I want to say 'who cares' about the council, but I manage to hold my composure.

"Marcus, you have always been my friend and for that I thank you, but I must stay here."

He shakes his head, knowing my decision is final, and bids me goodbye.

I don't watch him leave. Instead, I turn back to stare across the divide, resuming my vigil on the edge of the precipice, awaiting the moment my sweet Isabella comes into view. I make the decision not to tell her of Marcus' offer. She is not selfish and I expect she would think of my happiness above her own and tell me to leave.

And they are the very words I would hate to ever hear her say to me.

**A/N So there you have it, Eadweard's story. If you enjoyed it why not leave me a review? You know I love to hear from you guys.**

**I enjoyed writing this outtake so much that I've written another one for Jessica (What! Not Jessica, I hear you cry...) I just thought you might like to know what happened to her when she went squealing to Big D. So, if you want to find out it's posted as Jessica's Reward. **

**Until next time**

**Claire x**


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